


A Contest of Honor

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Treavor decides that he will, personally, give his answer to Lord Shaw's contest of honor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Contest of Honor

**Author's Note:**

> **Dishonored URL/Tumblr Blog** : carvedwhalebones.tumblr.com
> 
> More Dishonored writing can be found at this blog!

Against Treavor’s better judgement, he decides he will attend the Boyles’ masquerade ball. He’s been thinking of handing Corvo a letter detailing his further distaste for Lord Montgomery Shaw (or rather, specifically, his wife) and that Corvo will be his substitute in the contest of honor Shaw has challenged him in. However, his pride continues to nag at him and something seems a bit wrong about missing the opportunity to see Montgomery. It’ll be simply more satisfying to confront Lord Shaw and sling his barbs at him in person. If he has to, he’ll have Corvo step in if this pointless duel is insisted upon.

Havelock, Martin and Wallace immediately frowned at the idea when it was voiced. It’s far too risky and not part of the plan. Wallace frets for his safety, even if Corvo promises to be within the vicinity. Well to the Void with the plan. He is now in control of his family’s voting bloc in Parliament and heir to all Pendleton-owned businesses and establishments (not like that’s saying much, seeing it’s predominantly debt). If he doesn’t show up and rub elbows with the aristocracy, it won’t look favorably upon him. 

Anyhow, this may be the last chance he’ll ever attend a social event, seeing how dismal everything is beginning to turn. Be a shame to miss out on all the vintage wine. 

Dressed in his finest and having to reuse a mask from a previous social event (a complete tragedy, but he’ll make do), he makes his way to the estate. He doesn’t travel with Corvo and Samuel, instead taking coach from his family’s manor. It’s been awhile since he’s been treated with such luxuries and it’s a damn shame Samuel’s boat can’t be somewhat up to par. Despite all of his quiet critiquing, Pendleton is in rather high spirits. Knowing that this will be his first event without the twins looming over him has him a bit giddy, but it may be the bottle of whiskey he’s been nursing throughout the whole ride. 

Treavor almost succeeds in forgetting his irritation towards Lord Shaw until he sees the dreaded man, adorned in that obnoxious wolf mask. It has been a reoccurring theme amongst the upper class when it comes to masked events. Only Treavor knows the origins of the mask. It came from a game they used to play as children and it simply stuck. The young Pendleton always loved it, but now, he finds it nothing but an eyesore. 

He hopes he can still muster up a rather disgusted sneer, hating the way his palms and the hollow of his throat are beginning to collect sweat. Must be the damn heat or maybe it’s the whiskey. For the love of The Void, Treavor hopes Corvo is somewhere nearby. He should have waited for the man. Why didn’t he think to do so? Maybe he can sneak in one last drink of the whiskey in his coat and seek out Corvo before — 

“Lord Pendleton, I’m surprised you made it.” Shaw’s voice breaks through. That nearly startles the Pendleton. Treavor nervously glances to his right and sighs in relief. He spies Corvo by the entrance, looking like a terrible shadow. It immediately has him regaining his composure, his fingers attempting to adjust his coat without staining it with sweat. 

“Well, are we really going to do this?” Pendleton huffs and Shaw turns his head to his right, Treavor observing the box on top of a pedestal. It probably has two pistols nestled inside and the reality of it has Treavor fidgeting. He knows Corvo will win and the idea of Shaw lying dead on the floor has something in his gut twisting in discomfort. Maybe he should have stayed back at the pub.

“In a hurry, Pendleton?” the older man inquires, Pendleton missing the wry humor in his voice. Shaw’s comment only serves in sending a low pang of anxiety down his gullet. 

Shaw makes a motion to the lingering guards and they leave. “Before we begin, I believe congratulations are in order,” Shaw continues and that baffles the young Pendleton, trying to will himself to retain his composure. 

Shaw complimenting him on his obvious inheritance is not baffling, but the idea that Shaw may be stalling? Shaw has always believed that there is no point in wasting words. He doesn’t bother with roundabout dialogue or filling the air with frivolous words. He’ll say what needs to be said, the man unapologetic and to the point. It’s no surprise that others find Shaw rather brusque, but his words carry power and it gives him the luxury of being such. Pendleton has alway admired such a trait as a child, but to find Shaw not distributing their pistols for the duel, immediately, has him wary. 

Treavor gives a nod, thanking him.

“You know I haven’t seen you in quite a while, not since the hunting incident,” Shaw comments and Treavor all but frowns at the reminder. Shaw patched him up six months ago after Custis and Morgan played a rather cruel joke on him. Treavor was, obviously, the punch line. Treavor likes to think it was a moment of weakness that made him seek out Shaw. He’s not sure what to make of this moment, however. 

“I have been busy. I expect that will continue due to the…inheritance of numerous of responsibilities,” Treavor replies a bit too stiffly. He should be telling Shaw to get on with this contest of honor, but to have this be their last conversation feels wrong. They’ve spent the majority of their life together and now it has come down to this. His mouth feels a bit dry and his palms feel practically wet with sweat. Outsider’s teeth, he can feel himself beginning to second guess himself. There isn’t even a way for him to leave and he would rather die than apologize. Shaw is opening his mouth to reply, but Treavor finds himself blurting out: 

_“Are you going to bloody shoot me or what? Let’s get on with this.”_

There is an angry laugh leaving the depths of Shaw’s mask and Treavor truly hates that he can’t see the man’s face. Maybe he can smack it off and it’ll silence the brusque oaf. “I’m not going to shoot you, Treavor! I just wanted to see you and I knew, even if you wanted to, that you couldn’t refuse my challenge,” he replies, Shaw sounding vexed.

Treavor has to stop himself from giving out a godawful shriek in anger.

**x x x**

It takes a few glasses of wine for his temper to cool and for him to realize that Shaw admitted to wishing to see him.

He stormed off after Shaw’s admission the contest of honor was nothing but a ruse. Corvo was nowhere to be found by the entrance and it’s probably for the better. He might have ordered the Lord Protector to do something rather untoward to Lord Shaw. He keeps his eye on the door, however, in expectance. He’s waiting to see Montgomery and it should be downright embarrassing. Pendleton later catches sight of Shaw entering the estate half an hour after him, disappearing somewhere on the main floor. He stubbornly turned his head away, busying himself with his wine.

Now he regrets it, wishing he kept better track of Montgomery’s whereabouts instead of looking for ways to refill his glass. The wine has done a great deal in calming the tremors in his hands, but he has a rising suspicion it has muddled his ability to be rational. He should not pursue Shaw. The man is an unappreciative oaf. Treavor isn’t quite sure what to even say to the man. Should he even bother? 

The two have drifted apart after Shaw’s marriage with Lord Parnell’s niece, the man admitting to him one night that he actually loved her. He didn’t like that they were still touching the other when he told him such. Certainly didn’t appreciate that they were hiding underneath the sheets on his bed when the confession occurred. Haven’t they shared with the other that they loved one another? Was it a farce? That managed to spoil Pendleton’s mood and he has remained sour over the matter since. Where does he stand? What about him? He understands marrying for the sake of procreation, funds, status and what have you, but love? Treavor felt wronged and forgotten, never quite willing to discuss the matter with Montgomery nor give him the chance to explain. If this was his way of saying what is between them needs to end, then Treavor hears him loud and clear. So in response to Shaw’s confession, Pendleton opted for fanning the fires of his distaste and promptly ignoring the man.

Treavor hates seeing the two of them at events and has made every effort to avoid the two. Treavor would destroy Shaw’s letters and ignore his invitations. He even refused to attend to their wedding, deciding to feign sickness. Insulting his wife has been of recent and Treavor won’t lie, he was a bit pleased when Shaw sent word that he will answer for such insults. It’s been awhile since he has received word from Shaw and to now hear that he wished to see him all along? It manages to soften the frown on his lips and ease the tension in his shoulders. 

Perhaps he was the one being irrational from the very beginning…

It takes a good few minutes of walking about to find Lord Shaw. He has made himself at home in one of the armchairs in a partially enclosed parlor room, surprisingly alone. Treavor is quick to close the other door and it’s pointless. Miss White is bound to come barging in any moment, still painfully curious of what fortunes Pendleton has apparently inherited. Yet the idea of sharing a somewhat private moment with Shaw is almost too good to pass up. 

“Why _did_ you insult my wife, Treavor?” Shaw asks when Treavor falls within his line of sight. 

Treavor works his jaw, holding his chin up high, “One has the right to comment on the aesthetics of — ”

“ _No_ , one does not. Not when it comes to my wife,” Shaw cuts in, words clipped and precise. “I’m waiting for you to admit that you’ve been acting like a pretentious brat about the whole ordeal,” he adds and Treavor can feel his cheeks flush. 

“How dare you! I have not been acting as a ‘ _brat_ ,’” Pendleton spits back, having a good mind to leave Shaw in this parlor. Yes, Shaw is absolutely correct, but he won’t admit to such things, at least not so easily. 

“Shut it, Pendleton. You have and still are. The quicker you admit that you’ve been jealous of my wife, the quicker I can assure you that I still, unbelievably, love you.” 

Treavor gapes, successfully silenced. Not sure if he has been rendered mute due to Shaw’s brutish approach or his words. Either way, tonight has successfully been filled to the brim with Lord Pendleton consistently losing his composure around Lord Shaw. He doesn’t quite know what to say, but he desperately wishes to put his drink down. He doesn’t trust his hand to be holding the glass, his neck incredibly warm and his palms beginning to prickle with sweat, again. It’s Shaw’s words that hits home. Treavor doesn’t understand how one can love two people, at least romantically. It’s certainly unheard of and he’s trying to wrap his mind around such a concept. 

Shaw is rising from his seat fluidly, closing the space between them. A hand is carefully removing the glass from his own hand, Treavor grateful. He remains muted, watching Shaw set the glass down before the man’s fingers are sliding through his. 

“I love both you and my wife. I love you both the same,” he states firmly, before adding affectionately, “And you are a brat.” 

Treavor frowns in opposition at the final claim, but he squeezes Shaw’s hand, sighing heavily. “I will not confirm nor deny such a claim,” he finally replies, attempting to put on airs. “I will, however,” he adds, albeit quieter, “admit that I…was in the wrong and that I’ve truly missed you.” He hopes Shaw understands he will never admit such a thing again. The older male gives a nod at the apology and just like that, all is forgiven. Shaw chuckles, once more, and the young Pendleton never quite realized how much he missed the sound until now. He’s not quite sure about this loving two people romantically business, but it feels right being next to Shaw.

“Me, too. I’ve been dying to kiss you, Treavor,” Shaw admits unabashedly, only inciting a deeper blush and a small smile on Treavor’s lips. He tries to tuck his chin in to hide it, but Shaw’s spare hand moves to hold onto his chin, Treavor’s nose nearly bumping into the older male’s mask.

“Well, take off that ridiculous mask,” the Pendleton huffs out, that small smile growing into something wider. “What are you trying to be, the big bad wolf? Going to eat me, Shaw?”

“I just might.”

**x x x**

It’s a miracle that no one has walked in on them yet. Shaw’s mask has been graciously removed, revealing a pleased smile and a head of disheveled hair. Treavor immediately took the time to comb his fingers through the man’s brown locks, missing the way Shaw’s smile softened. Their clothes are being delicately removed. As tempting as it may be to rip the others clothes off in a passionate frenzy, they carefully undress the other. Shaw, however, is damn insufferable with the way he’s been picking at his trousers, making a great deal to push his knuckles against his groin as he pops each button open. It always manages to stir heady noises out of Treavor against his own volition.

Treavor reminds Shaw that any of the two doors in the parlor can swing on open. It’d be social suicide to be caught with their pants down, let alone with another man. Shaw looks far from bothered, white teeth flashing in an amused grin as he helps him out of his trousers. 

They agree they’ll at least keep their shirtsleeves on, but Montgomery can’t help but slide his hand underneath, fingers grazing over his stomach and ribs. _Absolutely wolfish till the very end_ , Treavor reflects. He really should attempt to see if he can lock the doors, but Montgomery is sliding back into that armchair of his and Treavor can’t imagine stalling this any further. He’s been stalling for over a year now due to his… _brattiness._

Treavor straddles his lap, the armchair big enough for his knobby knees to sink into the cushion next to Shaw. There are lips against his throat and Treavor happily complies, tilting his head back and feeling the man kiss every available patch of skin. The Pendleton digs his fingers into the armrests and wiggles himself closer to the older male, sucking in the air violently when their cocks brush against the other. That earns a nip near the side of his neck and Treavor almost has a mind to protest on leaving marks, but he stops himself. 

No, this will be good. Just in case he doesn’t see Shaw in the near future, he can always press into the mark with his thumb in remembrance. 

Shaw’s hand moves in-between them, his hand finding the both of their cocks, giving an impatient sound as he finds a good hold. Treavor’s hips immediately jerk upward against Shaw’s palm and cock. It’s somewhat pleasant, Shaw’s hand dry, but it leaves him eager for more. He eagerly pushes his hips forward, again, beginning to pick up a steady pace. Montgomery moves his mouth away from his neck, staring down to watch the scene. Treavor is already leaking over his fingers, earning a grumble from the Pendleton when he moves his hand. How quickly the discontent sound turns to a soft, keening whine, Shaw smearing the liquid across the head of Pendleton’s cock. 

_“ — you hear about Mrs. Brimsley? You’ll never believe this…”_

Pendleton freezes in Shaw’s lap, head turning to the door behind them. The older aristocrat doesn’t bother to stop, giving Pendleton’s cock a gentle squeeze, a squeak leaving Treavor. Treavor fixes him with a scalding glare, but Shaw just gives that damnable, boyishly handsome smile of his. They need to get dressed _immediately_. Treavor, also, doesn’t want to acknowledge that he can already feel heat stirring in his groin at the idea of being found out. Someone is going to open the door any minute now, swearing he can hear the knob being turned. Shaw only keeps a hand on his Treavor’s hip, keeping him in place when he catches his intention to leave. 

“We need to get dressed!” Treavor hisses out, already looking for their clothes. Good, it’s folded on the table not too far away. 

“Shh, you’re making too much noise,” Shaw replies in quiet exasperation. Montgomery is moving and it catches Pendleton’s eye, watching the very hand that has been smearing precum over his cock into his mouth. He pauses for a moment in his protests, watching the male suck on his index and middle fingers. His fingers leave his mouth, glossed and dripping with saliva. “Might be a bit rough. You fine with that?” he inquires and Treavor can’t believe himself, he’s nodding eagerly. 

He finds himself pulled closer into Shaw’s chest, the older male’s mouth somewhere against his clothed collarbone. He whispers sweet nothings into his back and Treavor basks in it, greedily taking it all in. His breath hitches when wet fingers slide in-between him, gently prodding. Treavor groans lowly when he feels Shaw’s finger finally sink through and the conversation outside of the door pauses. Already he can feel his body going rigid, holding his breath and waiting for the door to swing open. Shaw doesn’t take pause, only wiggles his finger further until Treavor is breathing again, swearing under his breath. 

Shaw just grins, kissing Treavor’s feverish skin, “I’m sorry, what did you say? Do we need to get dressed now?” Treavor can feel his body shake, Shaw pushing into a sweet spot, embarrassingly leaking all over the Shaw’s thighs. He’s painfully close and they’ve just begun. 

“Don’t you dare stop, Montgomery,” Treavor snarls and that earns a pleased sound from Shaw. The finger disappears and he’s being brusquely manhandled, forced to get on his feet once more. Damn, his knees can’t stop shaking. Shaw is nearby, hand finding that spot on his hip and kissing him encouragingly on the mouth. It’s liquid courage passed by tongue and Pendleton makes a note to somehow include that line in one of his memoirs. Back pressing into Shaw’s chest, Pendleton bites his tongue when Montgomery eases him down onto his lap. 

Pendleton absentmindedly pulls his shirtsleeves up, exposing the skin of his stomach, realizing he’s starting to stain the damn fabric. Hopefully his coat can cover it up. It’s certainly rough, Shaw giving him a moment to adjust before he’s hungrily thrusting into Treavor. Treavor can’t hear the conversation, still, from outside the door. Maybe whoever it was moved? Regardless, he keeps his mouth shut as best as he can.   

_“Oh, why is this door closed?”_

Shaw moves a hand over his mouth, barely catching the punched out groan leaving the young Pendleton as bliss hits him right between the eyes. Shaw follows soon after, biting into Pendleton’s clothed back. Treavor wants to briefly complain over the trouble it’s going to be to clean himself up, but he’s too exhausted and warm to bother. Shaw moves his hand off of Treavor’s mouth, moving so he can kiss the back of Treavor’s sweaty neck.

“You know the door — ” _Outsider’s eyes, the door!_ Treavor’s eyes widen and he tries to twist his neck, trying to see if the door is actually open. “Shh, Treavor. Calm down. The door that was closed when you arrived was locked all along,” Montgomery finishes with a chuckle. 

Treavor doesn’t stop himself, this time, from giving out a godawful shriek in anger.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
